


Annoyance

by Rainbownomja



Series: Writers Month 2019 Prompts [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Autistic Aziraphale, Day One- Annoyance, Fluff, However you wanna read it, I dont know how footnotes work in this format, Kinda?, Light Angst, Literally a single footnote, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Romantic Relationship, Sensory Overload, Snake Crowley, Writers month 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbownomja/pseuds/Rainbownomja
Summary: Aziraphale comes home with a severe case of sensory overload. Crowley tries to help.





	Annoyance

**Author's Note:**

> Im attempting writers month! This is my first (posted) Good Omens writing so please be kind! (but if anyone has pointers on how to write in character dialogue I'm all ears. Its a struggle) Todays prompt is Annoyance (I kinda stretched it a bit but creativity?) <3 <3 <3

Sunlight streamed in from the window Crowley was curled on, its heat warmed up his chilled scales. The single plant that Aziraphale (1) owned sat mere inches away, white petals blooming and shifting towards the late afternoon light. A.Z Fell and Co was the easiest place for Crowley to rest, despite the dust, clutter, and often anxious owner. Even when Aziraphale buzzed back and forth, trying to work his way through a problem with a maddening amount of movement and unintelligible muttering, Crowley found that he was relaxed. In fact, his heart swelled to a painful degree of warmth. His angel’s presence did that, it was the most frustrating thing Crowley's experienced in his 6,000+ years of existence.

His eyes had just fallen closed when the door slammed shut, vibrating up the walls. His automatic response was to slither out of view behind the flowers, although one golden eye peered around the terracotta pot. Aziraphale placed a well loved book onto one of his many stacks and collapsed into his arm chair, a sigh escaping past the fingers that covered his face. Within seconds he was stripping off his jacket, his tie, his socks, seemingly as much fabric as he could while still maintaining angel-like modesty. 

Crowley made his way between the shelves, legs sprouting from scales, red hair pulled from orange reflections. Sunglasses were already retrieved from his jacket pocket as he approached where Aziraphale was sitting and crouched down. His hands hovered in the air for a long moment before he returned them to his sides. 

“When did you arrive dear? I didn’t hear you come in.” Aziraphale murmured, his usual chipper attitude far from his voice. 

“ ‘couple minutes ago.” He lied. “ Y’alright Angel?” Aziraphale hesitated, but shook his head. He gave no further explanation. Crowley put a gentle hand on his knee “ ‘Ziraphale?” 

They touched casually often, but this one broke him. Aziraphale’s hands smacked against his thighs, his legs lurched away from the contact. 

“Don’t touch me.” He hissed through gritted teeth. Crowley shimmied away, and Aziraphale’s posture calmed within seconds. His face fell, soft palms returning to tired eyes. “I’m..sorry dear.” His voice was pitiful really. Irritation and exhaustion dripping on each word. 

“S’okay. Can I help?” 

“Turn off the lights. And, stop...talking.” He murmured. Crowley did as instructed, keeping his steps soft. For a while, he sat like a statue against the nearest bookshelf, a tome of false prophecies open on his lap although he wasn’t reading it. Across the way, Aziraphale's hand twisting molded into a form of flamboyant hand warming, his palms ran back and forth across each other like liquid, the scrape of skin against skin echoing off silent walls. He did this until his breathing slowed, his arms relaxed although he kept his eyes shut for an extra moment as he readjusted to the calmed space.

When they opened, blue eyes met gold and both softened to each other. One as if to apologize, the other to assess. Aziraphale looked frazzled to say the least, but Crowley had one idea. In the dark, Aziraphale lost track of him, until a forked tongue brushed against his fingers. When he didn't flinch, Crowley continued. 

The remainder of the evening was spent curled on the couch. An angel reading by low candle light so as not to offend his eyes; And a snake curled around his neck to take a much needed nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes:  
1) Crowley would never tell him that it was called “Angels Trumpet”. Aziraphale would never say that he’d found it in a book minutes after the demon left and couldn't get the blush to die down for over an hour. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! If you liked my work please give me a kudos or a comment! 
> 
> Interested in seeing more of my works including originals? Follow me on Tumblr @AvalonPendragonWrites 
> 
> See you tomorrow!


End file.
